


toska

by kurohswife



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Vignette, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurohswife/pseuds/kurohswife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He realises his goal beneath a blanket of fluorescent stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	toska

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: Inspired by both the word "toska" and Samuel Coleridge's "Kubla Khan". Set just before Psycho Pass season 1.
> 
> I was a little sick of trying to study so I wrote this...

He breathes in the chilled evening air, the coolness billowing to the back of his throat, flooding his lungs with sweet, hard oxygen. The night is bright and static, with only the steady drip of the recent rain and the occasional whine of a siren echoing among the bricked walls of the neighbourhood. He releases his breath, a light fog in front of his mouth. These days are slow and so mundane - stretching beyond what he finds bearable. He can tolerate these hours only just, by reading novels and bantering with Choe and amusing himself with the next plan he might set into motion. It is not enough.

There is much that could be done but he wishes not to embark on any of those pointless sojourns, for that is what anything that Sibyl found worth in could be called. Every step he took, every word he read and wrote, in the end, they were fruitless tasks to dull the mind, to distract him from the inevitable void.

He vaguely enjoys the conversations he has with Choe, that cannot be denied, but he yearns for something beyond, something to stimulate his world, to validate his existence.

In this society, the place where he was born and raised, where he treads upon below yellowed streetlights that illuminate lonely alleys, he is Nothing.

A droid passes him by, its robotic tone poorly pretending to be cheerful. The mechanical whirring fades into the city night's ambience.

But he had long acknowledged that he was Nothing in Sibyl's eyes, fleeting as the wind disturbed by a butterfly's wings, no, that was no longer the issue. What he desires now was to see for himself, to see if he, a Nothing, ghost-like and brief, could burn the interlinks in Sibyl's system. He wanted - he wanted to view the destruction a mere Nothing could make, and watch as those who had never tasted loneliness and anger, despaired.

He slips his slender hands into the pockets of his jacket, steps slowing in the direction of his house, pondering beneath the fluorescent stars.

_Would their eyes reflect disillusionment?_

He knocks once on the wooden door.

"You're back faster than I thought, Mr Makishima," says Choe wryly as he opens it.

"Indeed. I realised I had forgotten something."

_Would the passion burn long and bright?_

"Oh? I suppose you won't tell me what it is?"

Shogo shakes his head, amused. "It'll surprise you. But you will know soon enough." And he says no more.

Choe steps aside to let him in.

_Or would in them, chaos flicker, like an echo of moonlight?_


End file.
